


Flowers And Funerals

by Tiptapricot



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Holly dies guys, In Lucy's arms, Major character death - Freeform, Mentions of Blood, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Poetic, Sad Ending, Short, Snapshot-y, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 08:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiptapricot/pseuds/Tiptapricot
Summary: Love is a wonderful thing. It’s made of passion and hatred and hope, secret kisses, last goodbyes, and dreams of a new tomorrow. Holly always read about it in books, but never thought much of it, why should she? There was more in life to worry about.OrHolly notices much too late that she’s in love with Lucy Carlyle, and the realization is slowly killing her.





	Flowers And Funerals

**Author's Note:**

> Although details are up for interpretation, Hanahaki Disease is basically where the victim coughs or throws up flowers/flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. In some cases the petals can be removed with a surgery that gets rid of the danger but also the feelings, but I didn't write that into this so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ . If not treated, the victim will suffocate on the flowers/flower petals. I made a note to myself to write this so I finally did!

Holly didn’t think much of it, when she was first introduced to Lucy Carlyle. She was simply a work partner, a grubby, brash, reckless girl who had a knack for mouthing off. Holly just focused on work, ignoring the fact that Lucy’s arms looked toned when they weren’t covered by a jacket, and that she had to stop her eyes from lingering on the rare occasions Lucy actually brushed her hair.

Holly didn’t think much of it, when Lucy’s smile of relief after finishing a case made her stomach fill with butterflies. She simply smiled back and wondered how a single person could look so effortlessly gorgeous when covered in ectoplasm stains and grave dirt.

Holly didn’t think much of it, when she found herself in the small, cramped bathroom of 35 Portland Row, rose petals falling from her lips and throat raw from coughing. She simply focused on the faint floral taste they left behind as they fluttered over her tongue, delicate and beautiful, and tried to ignore the fact that her lungs were aching for air. 

Holly didn’t think much of it, when blood ran through the cracks of her fingers as she tried to stifle the sounds of her coughing from reaching her teammate's ears. She simply focused on the way Lucy looked as she danced through the dusty air, surrounded by flashes of iron and spectral flairs, ignoring the way her chest squeezed and ached with every twist of the girl’s blade.

Holly didn’t think much of it, when she realized she was in love. She simply squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw every time Lucy came upstairs, sweaty from sword practice and too exhausted to care if her boots were dirtying the tablecloth. She would smile sweetly and offer to put the kettle on, ignoring the fact that the tea could only soothe her throat for a short time and that it was getting harder and harder to breath as the days passed.

Holly didn’t think much of it, when she would drop the facade and rush to the bathroom, doubling over the toilet bowl and letting everything spill from her lungs like confetti. She simply pushed past it as the taste of rose petals became nauseously sweet on her lips, and the rancid smell of blood became routine to her senses.

Holly tried not to think much of it, when Lucy’s touches left her wistful and hoping. She would simply pull her close and kiss her senseless and tell her she meant everything, only to feel cold when she opened her eyes and realized it was all a fantasy.

Holly couldn’t ignore it, when she saw the way Lockwood and Lucy looked at each other and it made her chest sting and throat fill with flora. She simply tried to ignore it and focus on research, but it tugged at the back of her mind incessantly, making her shoulders shudder on the late nights when she could hide deep in her room where no one could hear her sob.

Holly didn’t think much of it, when she realized she was going to die. She simply walked to work a bit slower and greeted George as she opened the door, a ring in her voice and purpose in her steps. She chatted and smiled and helped prepare breakfast. She nodded to Lockwood as he came down the stairs, wrapped in a robe and hair messy, and excused herself to go fold laundry when Lucy entered the kitchen, hoping no one noticed she was in a rush. When she came back, jars of jam and dishes of butter were spread across the tabletop, placed haphazardly next to heaps of scones and pancakes.

Holly didn’t think much of it, when she realized she would miss this. She simply ignored the fact that the flowers in her throat meant no more jokes over breakfast, no more running through ancient houses, no more smeared drawings on the thinking cloth, no more investigating mysteries, or waking up to the smell of rain, or settling down with a a thick novel, and no more looking at the lovely, bruised face that belonged to Lucy Carlyle.

Holly didn’t think much of it, when she realized she wouldn’t change anything. She simply smiled because she was absolutely in love and wouldn’t go back for the world.

Then just like that, Lucy was gone, swallowed up by a swirling haze of ghosts and specters. It had been nearly a year, and the sensation of breathing made Holly's chest ache. Her body moved on it's own, and in seconds all she could feel was the pounding of her own heart as she fought and screamed and plunged herself into taking out every ounce of her hatred on Rotwell and his men. Maybe she started crying, but all she could feel was hot magnesium smoke brushing against her cheeks. She couldn't stop herself, and in those moments nothing really mattered, for Lucy was gone and Holly no longer had purpose. She would fight to avenge the girl that had brought so much love into her life, one that had meant more to Holly than her own life.

When Lucy emerged, Lockwood by her side, Holly nearly choked on the petals flooding her throat.

Holly didn't think much of it, when everything settled back to being normal after that, when the petals got worse and every second became a fight to breath. She focused on the fact that the pain meant Lucy was there, meant she was alive, and for that Holly was forever thankful.

Holly didn’t think much of it, when she checked her equipment one last time and walked beside the others into their new client’s home. She simply did all she could to stay conscious, taking shallow breaths around the thorny vines that had curled up the walls of her throat. She wasn't going to leave this house, was she?

Holly didn’t think much of it, when blackness started enveloping the corners of her vision and she felt herself stumbling, when the thermometer in her hand hit with a crack against the floor and she felt herself pitch forward.

She didn’t think much of it, when she slammed into the ground and felt her body go limp. She simply lay there, mind fuzzy and limbs going numb as she felt the flower push open her slack jaw and bloom into the icy air. This was the end, wasn't it?

Holly didn’t think much of it, when she heard Lucy yell her name. She simply cherished the warm arms that wrapped around her and focused on the closeness between them, even if it was only for a moment. She focused on the way Lucy looked beautiful even when she was crying. She focused on the way Lucy smelled like dust and chocolate. She focused on the way Lucy held her as she died.

After all, she could wish for nothing less as the world melted to blackness.


End file.
